


At the End of the Road

by Acchidocchi



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: F/M, Fantasy AU, M/M, Village life, author doesnt use metric system, barest mentions of body horror, celty has a head, celty is a fairy, cottagecore?!?, genuine apologies, izaya is a deity, lonely god izaya, mute character, mythological creatures, shizuo and celty are BFFs, shizuo escapes the slave trade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28354497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acchidocchi/pseuds/Acchidocchi
Summary: Shizuo survives his plummet down a three hundred foot waterfall, saved by the good graces of a fickle god who lives in the lake below.  As the only person who can see or hear the deity, he becomes a companion to the beautiful immortal with sorrowful red eyes.Shizuo learns that second chances do exist.  Izaya teaches him that.Izaya learns what it means to take a leap of faith.  Shizuo guides him along the way.
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya, Kishitani Shinra/Celty Sturluson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 42





	1. First Contact

It's pitch black save for the silver moonlight that streams through the crooked branches of the forest's tall black trees, the air sharp and cold, stinging the raw insides of Shizuo's lungs with every heaving breath he takes. He ducks under a tree branch, barreling himself forward, and ends up kicking up a blanket of snow in an act of unintended clumsiness. He curses. His legs are dragging, his arms are burning, and there's a prickling pain in his chest that's becoming too painful to ignore, but he can't rest, not even for a second. 

"Shizuo!" A furious voice screams, accentuated by the rabid barking of hunting dogs. "Shizuo!"

There's the crack of a riding crop. He can practically feel it snapping against his skin, and surges himself forward with a burst of desperate energy. 

He can see the trees begin to thin out just a hundred yards away, and suddenly there's the sound of rushing water. Shizuo clears the distance, breaking through the wall of trees, and stops in his tracks. The moonlight illuminates the river before him, highlighting the white foam that cascades down the side of the trail before plunging down the face of the jagged cliff to his right. It's too wide to jump. He'll freeze if he tries to swim.

"Shizuo!" The voice rasps. There's an indignant whine from his master's horse with the crack of the riding crop. 

It's the sound that spurs him into action before he can process what he's doing. The dogs are at his ankles, razor-sharp teeth digging into his left calf, a hand reaching for his ragged collar. He throws himself forward into the water, one of the hounds following him into it. 

It's so mind-numbingly cold that for a second, he feels nothing. He thrashes, bringing his head up for one last desperate breath for air, and then the current is taking him, battering his body against jagged rocks as it pulls him toward the face of the cliff. He lets the dog go, silently apologizes to it, feels its body pulled away from his grasp, and then the pressure against his throat is too much to bear, and he's inhaling water by the mouthful. He goes limp, feeling the last remnants of strength slip away from his fingertips.

_"This won't do,"_ says a voice he can't see.

He goes over the waterfall. He's out before he hits the bottom.

* * *

He doesn't believe in an afterlife, doesn't think there's anything waiting for him at the end of the tunnel, so when he opens his eyes to sunlight and birdsong he understands through his disoriented haze that he's survived, though it's a mystery how. Everything hurts. He looks around without turning his head, seeing that he's tucked tightly into bed under what feels like six layers of blankets. His left leg pokes out of the covers, wrapped expertly in cotton bandages.

Someone's been taking care of him, he realizes. 

There's a noise across the room, the sound of fabric rustling. He can't see without moving, and his neck protests too strongly for him to turn his head. Light footsteps pad up to him, and suddenly, there's a face pushed up close to his. 

"Oh, you're awake!" And the person takes a step back. 

Shizuo squints, processing: dark eyes, dark hair, ill-fitting glasses. The man before him smiles, chipper, and turns to call out the door. "Celty! He's awake!" 

Shizuo winces at the noise, and the spectacled man laughs, bending down so he's at eye-level with Shizuo. 

"Whoops, sorry! Forgot you just woke up." He grins. "My name's Shinra."

A young woman comes into Shizuo's view. She has bandages wrapped around her neck. 

"And this is the beautiful Celty!" Shinra declares.

Celty ignores the dramatic introduction, her pale eyes focused solely on Shizuo. She looks at Shinra, as if asking him to answer an unvoiced question.

Without warning, Shinra pokes Shizuo's cheek hard. Shizuo grunts.

Shinra seems delighted. "Oh yes, he's definitely alive!"

Shinra begins checking his vitals, poking around at his pulse, then changing his bandages, forcing him to move his fingers and toes this way and that. Shizuo lets the man fuss over him, only half-bewildered in his hazy state of pain and shock. The girl, Celty, assists Shinra in turning Shizuo over on his side so he faces them. Her hands are shaking.

"Wow, it really is a miracle you're not dead," Shinra laughs, "isn't it, Celty?"

Celty holds a glass of water to Shizuo's mouth and helps him drink. A little less than half ends up spilled on his shirt, but he's too thirsty to care. She gives him another glass, which he sips at slower this time.

"Celty found you on her morning walk floating in the Lake of Eve," Shinra continues on. "That was almost three days ago. You were floating on your back like a dead fish; we had to get Kadota to help us drag you out." He pushes his glasses up and asks curiously, "say, did you come down the waterfall?"

"Yeah," Shizuo croaks. Three days? He furrows his brow, contemplating. 

"Ah, very lucky you surfaced on your back instead of face-down," Shinra hums, tapping his fingers idly against the bed frame. Then he beams cheerfully at Celty. "You should thank Celty for finding you and graciously saving your life! Without her, you'd have been fish food!"

Shizuo looks at Celty, who looks down modestly. "Thanks," he says, but given how mangled he feels, it doesn't come out very nicely. 

Still, Celty doesn't seem to mind. She nods her head and mouths something that Shizuo can't quite catch.

"Celty says 'you're welcome,'" Shinra translates helpfully, wrapping an arm around the girl, who pushes him away with one arm. He nearly falls off his chair but recovers quickly, breaking out into a huge grin. "That's my Celty! So modest! So gracious!"

Shizuo falls asleep in the midst of Shinra's shouting.

* * *

Later that night, Shizuo wakes and finds that he can stand up and walk a bit without getting winded. Shinra and Celty are astonished by this fact and watch him like proud parents seeing their child take its first steps as he makes his way out of the bedroom. They bring him to their living space and seat him at their dining table, serving him two bowls of hearty vegetable stew. He feels self-conscious, breaking bread with strangers, especially given how carefully they watch him eat. 

The feeling must have made its way to his expression, because Shinra laughs him off. "You're no stranger to us!" he chimes good-naturedly, and then adds conspiratorially, "Celty and I changed your clothes twice. We've seen you naked!"

Celty goes bright red and shoves Shinra off his stool. The doctor continues to laugh from where he lies on the ground. 

"So," Shizuo starts, once Shinra has collected himself. His voice is gravelly and low, so he clears his throat, still embarrassed. "Where is this? Where are we?"

"Memori Village," Shinra replies. "We're in the Valley of Eve. Small, so none of the larger cities really bother with us." 

That explains why Shizuo's never heard the name before. Shinra continues, waving his spoon around in the air. "More specifically, you're at my clinic. I'm the doctor of this village, and Celty is my beautiful assistant!"

Celty gives Shizuo a look that very clearly means she resents that title.

"My turn for questions now," says Shinra, oblivious to the glare Celty sends his way. "How exactly did you fall into our sacred lake?"

"Sacred?" Shizuo asks, spoon halfway to his mouth. 

"The Lake of Eve is where Memori's guardian deity resides," Shinra explains, but thankfully, there's no trace of offense on his face. If anything, he looks curious, like a child eager for a bedtime story. "It's accessible only through our village and the waterfall that feeds into it. And the waterfall is pretty secluded; starts up in the mountains and comes down through the forest. It's about a 300 foot fall?"

"Three... Three hundred?" Shizuo gapes.

Celty nods.

Shinra hums, chasing the last mouthful of stew in his bowl. "No ordinary human could survive a drop like that. What brought you into the river?" He looks up at Shizuo from his glasses, his expression shifting. "Or what led you to jump?"

Shizuo runs a hand through his hair. He feels their eyes on him, and wonders whether or not he should be honest. Then he catches Celty's eye--her gaze is soft and understanding. Before he can think better of it, the truth is shouldering its way out of his mouth. "I escaped from transit. I was a slave for a family in the capital."

Shinra makes a sound of intrigue, and gestures for Shizuo to elaborate.

"The family I used to work for, their son roughed me up one day, pretty badly. I fought back. Not very smart," he mutters, fiddling with the tablecloth in his lap. The memory feels so distant, so detached, now that he tries to recall it. He can't even reliably reconstruct the family in his mind, can't remember the distinct shape of their faces, their expressions as they found the two of them bloodied in the pastures. He only remembers the feeling of dread from the moment of discovery. "They sold me. The traders were taking me and a larger group somewhere across the valley when I busted my chains and jumped off the wagon."

Shinra and Celty exchange looks of empathy. 

"They chased me down the mountain. I saw the river when they caught up to me and I thought either way I was screwed, so I jumped. Didn't expect to survive it." 

Celty mouths something, and Shinra translates. "Celty says she's glad you escaped."

Shizuo balls his fists up where they rest in his lap. "They're looking for me."

Shinra waves his hand dismissively. "I doubt it," he claims. "Any sensible person would've thought as soon as you went over the cliff that you were dead, and any smart businessman would've accepted the loss and moved on with the rest of his cargo."

Shizuo considers it. "Yeah, you're probably right." But he won't allow himself to be too hopeful, too greedy. "I should go. I've used up enough of your resources." 

Before he can move to stand, Celty's hand grasps at his wrist. Shizuo looks at her, startled at his reflection in her pale blue eyes, hollow at how weary he looks. Her mouth is moving, she's trying to say something. "I'm sorry," he says. "I don't understand."

"Celty says she has an idea," Shinra pipes up, smiling gleefully. "I think it may just work out!"

Celty pulls Shizuo back into his seat, nodding at Shinra, who folds his hands together and leans over the table, resting his chin in his palms. 

"Shizuo, how would you feel about becoming this clinic's second most beautiful assistant?"

* * *

Shizuo grabs the crate of dried medicinal herbs and Kadota stacks onto it an equally heavy crate filled with fabrics and cloth. 

"Careful," Kadota says, and helps to adjust the boxes so that they won't tip over.

"Thanks," he says. Kadota smiles.

Celty hands Kadota a sack of gold pieces and mouths something, slowly. 

Kadota nods. "I talked to Namie about the supply of sage this afternoon. She says she'll drop off the rest of what she has in stock tomorrow morning. I can bring it to the clinic as soon as I get it."

Celty smiles and bows her head. Shizuo watches, impressed; everyone in town seems to understand Celty despite her voicelessness, albeit at varying degrees. Kadota and Shinra are probably close to the same wavelength, able to read Celty's intentions and thoughts based on the general motion of her mouth and her expression. Shizuo's still an amateur.

They leave Kadota's cabin, making their way back to the clinic in silence. Shizuo stops in his tracks, startled, when Celty grabs his sleeve gently and tugs. 

He has to peer around his cargo to watch her lips, and she has to repeat the motion a second time before he guesses correctly. "You want... You want to go to the lake?" He asks.

Celty nods, pointing to the short path that leads up the hill. She mouths something else.

"To make an offering," Shizuo finishes. 

She grins at him, and he feels a little proud. 

"Sure, let's go."

They make their way up the path. 

He understands at once why the inhabitants of this small town believe this lake to be sacred. The land is more vibrant, becomes more alive with closer proximity to the sparkling, clear blue waters; the air suddenly feels more pure. The trees stand taller, spreading their limbs out as if to caress the sky; and near the line where the ground seeps into the water Shizuo sees little buds of green peeking out of the ice, white flower bulbs dangling from their drooping necks. The little sprig of life fighting its way through the apathy of winter convinces Shizuo: this place is holy.

"It's beautiful," he says, and Celty seems pleased. Shizuo tips his head back to consider the waterfall that cascades down the side of the cliff. Its majesty is breath-taking, but his admiration quickly gives way to cold realization. Shinra was in no way exaggerating its height. 

"Oh my god," he breathes. "I... I fell from there?"

Celty nods solemnly.

"I should have died." 

Celty doesn't react, approaching the bank instead, careful not to step on any of the snowdrop flowers. She lifts up her skirt so that it doesn't drag on the ground and crouches down before the water. Shizuo sets the crates down on a dry spot underneath a tree and follows her lead.

Celty ducks her head down.

_Thank you for saving Shizuo._

Her eyes are closed, her hands pressed firmly together as she mouths her thanks. Shizuo feels something in his chest unfurl, something thankful and warm and hopeful. He's caught up in the moment until Celty opens her eyes, turning to reach into her satchel. He averts his gaze, embarrassed, but eventually looks back in order to follows her line of vision. She's staring out a few feet into the lake, where a large, flat stone sits. Its top levels off right above the surface of the water.

Celty carefully steps into the lake, walking just far enough so that she's in reaching distance of the stone. She lays out a small checkered kerchief on its face, and from her satchel procures a small bag that Shizuo recognizes from this morning, when she'd taken some of their breakfast before it was served and stuffed it away. He assumed she'd been packing a snack, but quickly understands what she's doing as she arranges the bag's contents over the fabric laying on the stone. 

The final picture comes together, a picturesque little picnic: several slices of dried apple, half an orange, a thick slab of whole wheat bread, and a cut of white cheese wrapped in parchment paper.

Celty wades back over to Shizuo, stepping out of the water. He offers her a hand and she accepts. They admire her work together for a minute.

"You're cold," he says. He shrugs off his wool coat and puts it around her shoulders. 

She tries to protest but he's already turned away, retrieving the crates of supplies. 

When they return to the clinic, making a beeline to the fireplace to warm up, Shinra flies into a fit of hysteria at the sight of Celty wearing Shizuo's coat. "Are you trying to make a move on my darling Celty?" He cries. "I won't stand for this! How dare you! I trusted you!"

Celty jabs Shinra in the ribs, and he crumples to the floor, impressively still professing his love for her and his intentions for revenge on Shizuo. 

Shizuo meets her eyes across the room.

"Thanks," he whispers.

* * *

Shizuo heads back to the Lake of Eve after dinner. 

Whenever he feels caught up with emotion, or choked up in the slightest, he needs to get away for a bit to calm down and process his feelings. He used to do it all the time back in the capital, working for the family that used to own him, especially when he thought about his baby brother from whom he'd been separated as a child at the auction market. But now, the emotions that stir within him aren't of agony or despair. They're of an unexpected happiness he hasn't experienced in nearly two decades, one that rises all too suddenly when he thinks of Shinra and Celty, this new family he's found. He needs some fresh air. He needs to thank someone or something for dropping him into Memori, for giving him a second chance.

It's much colder out, but he's covered himself up in several layers, accounting for the winter chill. The lake is somehow more breathtaking at night, he thinks, the silver beams of the moon shining down into the clear waters, illuminating the shallow bank where small, colorful fish dart around against the current. The snowdrop flowers seem to glow. 

Shizuo crouches down at the bank, careful not to tread on their pure white bulbs. He watches the minnows and guppies chase each other around, streaking through the water like little bullets, and takes a deep breath.

"Um, I know you know I'm not from around here originally," Shizuo starts, and furrows his brow. "I didn't know you lived here, and I didn't mean to disturb your lake. I, uh, wanted to apologize for dropping in on you like that."

The barrage of the falls sends ripples across the water. Shizuo watches the movement dissipate along the lake's surface. "I shouldn't have survived the fall. I don't think there's any way I did on my own. So I wanted to... thank you for letting me live. I figured whoever lives here, whoever you are, you had something to do with it, even if I don't understand what reasons you had for helping me."

"I... I didn't think my life had much value just a little while ago. When I jumped into the river from the top of the mountain, I didn't think I'd survive, and I was okay with that," Shizuo continues. His reflection stares back at him from the water. His expression is oddly tranquil. "But meeting Shinra and Celty has... changed that. I want to live. I look forward to waking up in the morning and being with them, and I like the people who live here too. They're kind."

He pauses, and manages to get the words out. "I didn't think there were kind people left in this world. So thank you for saving me and proving me wrong."

Shizuo watches the water for a little while more, committing the scenery to memory, transcribing the feeling of relief and gratitude he feels to heart. He closes his eyes and lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and begins to stand.

_Crunch._

_Crunch._

The serenity is gone.

Shizuo's eyes fly open, and he stumbles backward in surprise. He looks behind himself, anticipating another person-- god, that would be embarrassing if someone had been listening this whole time-- or perhaps a wild animal. But he's alone. Confused and rattled, he draws to his feet, and glances back to the lake.

_Ah,_ he thinks. _That's not right._

There's a young man, about his age, crouching in the lake; he's dressed in pure black robes rolled up to his elbows, and is barefoot. Beyond the irrationality of his clothing, Shizuo has to stop and do a double-take at the other's appearance. The man is breathtaking--so beautiful it's unnatural. His short, glossy hair is the color of ink, so dark it blends into the night; his skin is so fair it rivals the purity of the snow at their feet, and his crimson eyes, framed by long dark lashes, are redder than blood. 

Shizuo blinks, and staggers backward in shock. The stranger is sitting _on_ the surface of the water.

_Crunch._

And he's eating _Celty's offerings._

"Hey, you asshole," Shizuo snaps, before he can think better of it. He's wading into the water, the icy chill of the lake engulfing him up to the knees as he draws near the man who gazes at him curiously with those glowing red eyes. "Those are offerings for the lake's deity! Hands off."

The man glances at Shizuo and scoffs, the disdain apparent in his countenance, as if he's looking at a particularly large rodent. He finishes the apple slices and grabs the bread, taking a large bite of the crust.

"Didn't you hear me?" Shizuo snarls.

The man chews, looking Shizuo up and down and arches a dark brow, as if to say, _do I look like I care?_

Shizuo growls, reaching over and grabbing the man by his collar, pulling the other man up to his full height. "Don't you know not to take things that don't belong to you?"

Infuriatingly, the man smiles, and takes another bite of the bread.

"You asshole!" Shizuo cries, and throws the other man to the side, aiming for the dry bank of the lake. The robed man twirls gracefully out of Shizuo's grip--still holding Celty's bread--and lands on his toes, an inch off the ground, as if suspended like a vision, dancing above the snow. He smiles saccharinely at Shizuo, finishing up the bread, and dusts the crumbs off his hands. Shizuo balls his fists, readying a punch.

"Ah ah," the man singsongs, the sound of his voice sending chills down Shizuo's spine. His voice is clear and bright, cutting through the heavy weight of the winter night like a knife. "Don't do anything you might regret. I'm not known to be particularly forgiving."

"Who are you?" Shizuo spits in disbelief, trudging out of the water. 

The man only smiles, drifting his way back over to the lake, the ends of his silk garb floating above the surface of the water and glowing in the moonlight. Shizuo watches, entranced, before the stranger crouches down near the flat stone once again, swiping up Celty's cheese and orange. 

Shizuo's prepared to wade back in to snatch the food back, but is caught off guard when the orange comes sailing through the air in his direction. He scrambles to catch it and scowls at the man, who's calmly snacking on the slice of cheese.

"Tell the fairy girl that I'm very pleased with her gifts," the man says, his carmine gaze narrowing into something playful but intense, curious, as it runs over Shizuo, evaluating him. "I'm looking forward to seeing her regain her wings."

Shizuo staggers backward. "What are you talking about?" 

Then realization slowly begins to dawn on him, horror creeping into his expression. 

"You're..."

The man throws his head back and laughs in pure, unadulterated delight. Silver mist begins to surround his limbs, solidifying into soft white light that devours his form, until his silhouette is entirely covered. Just before the man dissipates away into the night, those gleaming red eyes turn back to face him.

"Shizuo," the stranger says, his tone lilting with the curvature of his smile.

Shizuo freezes, squeezing the orange so hard that pulp slides through the gaps between his fingers.

"You're welcome. Make good use of your second chance."

And with that, the deity of Lake Eve is gone.


	2. Human After All

"I'm back," Shizuo calls hoarsely as he throws himself through the entrance of the clinic, fumbling to get the door shut behind him. The blistering winter winds stream through the gap between the door hinges, numbing his fingers as he fumbles clumsily over the deadlock, snapping it in place. He hurriedly kicks off his shoes, stumbling through the doorway, heaving for breath; and Shinra and Celty begin to rise from where they've curled up near the fireplace, their faces fraught with concern.

"What's wrong, Shizuo?" Shinra asks. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Shizuo pants, exacerbating the pale, feverish flush he feels spreading across his cheeks, and tries to speak only to make a strangled noise. Both Shinra and Celty's expressions shift into clinical concern; Celty throws a blanket around his shoulders and Shinra guides him to the kitchen table by the hand, sitting him down. They wait for him to gulp down a cup of water before checking him for afflictions.

"You don't have a fever," Shinra observes, drawing back his hand from Shizuo's forehead with a frown. "What happened?"

"It wasn't a ghost," Shizuo mumbles, only half-coherent. His eyes frantically dart around the room before settling on his companions' faces, their worried eyes suddenly anchoring him back down to reality. He swallows, and tries to express himself again, more clearly this time. "I met the deity of Lake Eve."

Celty and Shinra exchange subtle looks of confusion, as if they're dealing with one of their hysterical patients. They're the exact faces Shinra and Celty always make before Shinra gently says, _'No, Nagata-san, I don't think your skin is peeling off, you look just fine to me, but we can check just to be safe,'_ before humoring the unstable old woman who lives across the road who suffers from persistent night terrors. The tone of Shinra's voice--that familiar breed of patronizing caution--pulls a growl of indignation from Shizuo's lips. 

"I met the deity of Lake Eve," Shizuo repeats, firmer this time. 

Shinra furrows his brow and, as if Shizuo is an imaginative child, suggests, "maybe it was just a traveler you saw?"

"No," Shizuo objects immediately, trying to keep his tone level so he doesn't snap. "He wasn't human. He was _walking on water_."

_That_ catches their attention.

"He knew my name," Shizuo adds, before Celty or Shinra can interject with questions of the unvoiced concern reflected in their dubious expressions. He buries his face in his palms, fingers tangling through his hair; when he closes his eyes, the deity's coy smile flashes in the dark behind his eyelids. The image is almost haunting, still present in undertones when he opens his eyes again, trying to blink sunspots out of his vision. "He called me by my name. He _knew_ who I was."

A hand comes to rest on the side of Shizuo's neck, and he jerks instinctively, only to meet Shinra's apologetic eyes. Once he relaxes, the doctor begins checking Shizuo's vitals, warm fingers pressing against the soft flesh of his Adam's apple to check his pulse. "I'm fine," Shizuo grumbles, resisting the urge to push Shinra away. 

"Just a precaution," Shinra assures him, drawing his fingers back. "You're right as rain."

"I'm not sick," Shizuo asserts darkly. "And I wasn't hallucinating. I know what I saw."

Shinra raises his hands in a gesture of goodwill. "I believe you saw someone," he offers placatingly, a calm smile resting on his lips, and Shizuo can't figure out whether or not the doctor is lying, his diplomatic expression impenetrable behind the glare of his glasses. "But neither Celty nor myself have ever seen the lake deity, so we can't exactly confirm that the, er, person you saw was him." Celty punctuates the statement with an affirmative nod of her head.

Shinra clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side thoughtfully, considering. "I personally thought that Eve was more of a supernatural being than a living entity. Something like a poltergeist? Or maybe a force of nature, like the tides?"

Shizuo grunts, though the scowl pressed into his features begins to soften, the stress unwinding from his shoulders. "He looked like a human being to me. He was eating the offerings Celty left."

"Ah, I always assumed that the squirrels were to blame for that," Shinra muses.

Shizuo can't help the snort of laughter that escapes him. As if rewarding him, Shinra beams and gives him a pat on his back before taking a seat at the table.

"He knew it was Celty who left the bread and fruit from this afternoon," Shizuo goes on. "He told me he liked her offerings."

Celty perks up, looking pleasantly surprised.

"So he's omniscient," Shinra notes.

"Yeah, I guess so," Shizuo responds. Then he recalls what the deity had said about Celty at the end of their conversation; his brow furrows as confusion begins to fog up his thoughts again, to the point he can't ignore the gripping question that tugs at his lips. "He called Celty a fairy," he states, unsure of what he might ask them; Celty and Shinra freeze, their faces caught between two poles: shock from Shinra and horror from Celty.

"He said he was waiting to see her wings grow back," Shizuo tells them. Tight, curling dread claws its way up his belly in response to their anxious expressions. "What does that mean?"

Shinra loops an arm around Celty's small frame, tucking his head close to her ear, whispering something under his breath too quiet for Shizuo to pick up on. He scowls, but allows them their moment of privacy, before repeating himself. "What is it?"

Wordlessly, Shinra rises to his feet, striding over to Shizuo with an intensity in his eyes so strong that the doctor--normally playful and chipper, without a care in the world--is unrecognizable, transformed into a different person. Shinra claps a hand around his shoulder with surprising force, his grey-brown eyes flashing. "Shizuo," Shinra breathes, "did you tell anyone else what the man told you?"

"No," he replies quickly. "I came straight back from the lake." He glances at Celty, hoping for some reassurance, but their eyes don't connect; her attention is trained somewhere else, her expression purposefully and carefully blank. 

Shinra relaxes his grip. "Good, good," he sighs shakily, and retrieves a quilt from the lounge, wrapping it snugly around Celty's shoulders. 

It's such a simple act; on any other day, Shizuo wouldn't have paid it any attention. But for some reason, at this moment, he feels perverse watching them. The tenderness and affection the doctor professes everyday is so clearly evident in the way his hands lingers over Celty's shoulders, his thumb tracing a comforting circle over her cheek as his palms find their way to cradle her face. The motion is so oddly intimate that it pains Shizuo; he suddenly thinks it must have been a mistake, to accept their hospitality, to intrude into this little space they've carved out for themselves where they can so easily pretend nothing else exists aside from the two of them.

Shizuo swallows. His throat hurts.

"I'm sure you have questions," Shinra says as he crosses over to the kitchen window and firmly draws the curtains shut.

"More than a few," Shizuo manages to respond.

Celty looks dazedly to Shinra, her hand creeping out from under her blanket to find his midair. Their fingers tangle together. Shizuo forces himself to look away as Celty's lips begin to move, her silent words forming an unspoken, private message undoubtedly meant only for Shinra.

"Celty says you should know," Shinra says eventually. As if to accentuate the statement, Celty stares Shizuo straight in the eye, her mouth pressed into a firm line, her shining cyan eyes purposeful. 

"Celty is indeed a fairy, like the man you met said," Shinra states. Shizuo startles at the confirmation, meeting Shinra's careful eyes. There's a deep protectiveness in that gaze, disturbing in that it makes him feel as if he doesn't know the other at all, as if Shinra genuinely believes there's a possibility he might harm Celty. Shinra studies him before clicking his tongue, apparently satisfied by Shizuo's honest discomfort and confusion, proceeding: "Celty is a special kind of fairy called a Dullahan."

"A Dullahan?" He asks.

"Yes," Shinra confirms. "They're especially uncommon beings, known for reaping the souls of the dead."

A gruesome image worms its way into Shizuo's head. He shakes thoughts of scythes and blood from his mind, glancing at Celty, whose tiny frame is swallowed up by her blanket. 

His disbelief must shine clear on his face, because a dry chuckle rings from Shinra's lips. "Celty hasn't done much reaping lately," the doctor jokes, no real humor in his voice. 

"Right," says Shizuo carefully.

"No," Shinra says, "not since they reattached her head." 

"Right." 

Then Shinra's words hit him straight on, like a punch to the gut. 

"What?" He gasps, and doubles over, mouth hanging open. For a second thinks he's just being excluded from a particularly strange inside joke. But when he meets the doctor's eyes he knows at once that Shinra's not kidding, his expression unreadable but undoubtedly serious. Shizuo glances at Celty, but her features mirror Shinra's, and he suddenly feels lost, untethered even. "What the hell do you mean, reattached her head?"

"Let me explain from the beginning," Shinra says, smiling humorlessly. "Are you familiar with the exotic slave trade?"

"What about it?" Shizuo gruffs, still reeling from shock, not made any better by the mention of the industry which brings less than pleasant thoughts to mind. He's countless times seen victims of the exotic slave trade in the wealthier marketplaces of the capital, mostly what the auctioneers called 'half-breeds' and 'half-bloods': those with mixed human and non-human parentage. The memory of dhampyrs with their fangs shaven off and tieflings with their horns amputated, their potent anguish, assaults his mind, their moaning ringing in his hears. 

"My lovely Celty is unfortunately a victim of the industry," Shinra says, crossing his legs and folding his hands over his lap. He adds plainly: "as I'm sure you know, the exotic slave trade is quite different than the one you found yourself subjected to. They market's less concerned with the utility of its victims for labor, and more for purposes of... entertainment." 

"Entertainment," Shizuo echoes. He knows exactly what the doctor means. But he's never seen any victims above a blood quantum of fifty percent, no less a fairy. "I wasn't aware they dealt with full-bloods."

"They usually don't," Shinra agrees mildly. "Full-bloods are usually too dangerous for humans to capture, plus, they're wary of humans to begin with, whereas half-bloods are already integrated into society."

"They're easier targets," Shizuo says.

Shinra verifies the claim with a nod, in a manner so detached it feels like he's slipped back into his medical mode, moving efficiently and with clipped precision. Then, slowly, his demeanor softens into something more personal. "Celty's a full Dullahan, through and through. The poachers caught her when she was injured and clipped her wings."

Shizuo grimaces, unable to offer anything suitably sympathetic. "Rare finds always sell for a lot," he says weakly.

"Yes. They tried to auction her." Shinra's gaze goes dark. "But Celty's appearance was... unconventional. Dullahan, in their natural state of being, don't have heads attached to their bodies." 

"Okay," Shizuo says, trying to follow Shinra's train of thought.

Shinra elaborates without missing a beat. "They do, however, carry their heads with them wherever they go." He cradles his hands as if holding an imaginary helmet, tucking it against his side as if to demonstrate, and continues. "The body and head of the Dullahan, despite being physically discontiguous, share a single consciousness which unites their separate streams of thought, emotions, and sensory experiences."

Shizuo digests the information, beginning to understand where Shinra is going. "Buyers usually want..." He considers how to phrase his words. _"Pretty_ slaves." Then he clarifies, "ones who look as human as possible."

"Yes. Celty being in two pieces scared people away," Shinra hums. Celty nudges the doctor, and in one swift motion, pulls the quilt down from her shoulders. The fabric tumbles into her lap. Shinra makes a quiet, obedient noise, his hands reaching for her neck. 

Shizuo flinches. 

The white bandages slowly unravel, snaking their way around Shinra's arm. The doctor steps back, and Celty's neck is exposed to the light of the fireplace. A strangled noise of dismay escapes from Shizuo's lips as his eyes gravitate toward the jagged, violent scar that loops like a noose around Celty's throat in perfect orbit, the marred skin contrasting, angry shades of red and pink. Its uniform circumference is nearly three inches wide. There's something painfully unnatural about the way the wound healed, as if the opposite ends of Celty's throat rejected each other at the point of their union. Celty swallows, and the scar ripples.

"They attached her head to her body," Shinra states. His voice is cold again. "As if trying to combine fraternal twins into a conjoined set." 

Shizuo winces. 

Shinra nods grimly, continuing, "they knew it wasn't natural but did it anyway, just so they could make money." Then the doctor's lips quiver into a maniacal grin, unquestionable hatred belying the quirk of his mouth. Shizuo's never seen him make such a face. "Humans are truly despicable creatures."

Celty's hand finds Shinra's, their fingers weaving together. Shizuo isn't sure who's comforting who.

"You escaped," Shizuo says to Celty eventually, breaking the silence that's befallen the room. His words are slow and careful, but hopeful. Their eyes meet, brown on blue, and he presses forward. "How?"

Celty begins wrapping the bandages around her neck, the jagged collar of scarred flesh disappearing under cotton cloth.

"Much like you, Celty escaped during transit and found sanctuary through the Lake of Eve," Shinra starts. "But she fled from within the valley, not the top of the mountain. The sellers chased her with bayonets for miles, until they reached Memori at around dawn."

Shizuo tenses his left leg, remembering the snapping of dog's teeth at his heels, the biting cold that sliced at his lungs, the threat of a cracking whip that spurred him to jump from the top of the waterfall thinking he would certainly die. He pictures knives and bullets, the promise of blood, and his jaw hardens, teeth grinding. "Fuck," he seethes.

"Indeed," Shinra muses. His eyes are glassy with forlorn nostalgia. "Naturally, we all woke up at the racket, and since Celty didn't look much like a Dullahan by that point, we assumed she was a human girl. Likely a victim of sex trafficking." 

Shizuo forces himself to relax his jaw. "So you guys helped."

Shinra nods. "We tried to stop them at the gates but ended up chasing them to Lake Eve."

Celty mouths something. 

_T_ _hey tried..._

"Who tried?" Shizuo asks.

" _We_ tried to de-escalate the situation," Shinra answers. "The poachers tried to kill Celty." 

Celty whispers something else, her eyes burning with a quiet intensity. Shizuo watches her mouth bend over the shape of each word, every syllable and consonant.

_The deity,_ she says silently. 

And with that, it all suddenly makes sense.

"He saved you," Shizuo finishes for her. "Didn't he?"

Celty nods. Then her lips are moving again, but there's too much static in Shizuo's brain to decipher what she's trying to say, and she's lip-syncing full sentences, speaking silent words faster than he's ever seen before. It's as if a dam has been broken, the floodgates thrown open with the force of tempestuous emotion. "I can't," he tries to interrupt her, but she keeps gesturing. "Celty, I can't understand you. I'm sorry."

Shinra intercepts, moving between them so he can stare straight into Celty's eyes. 

Shizuo catches a glimpse of Shinra's face and draws back, as if burnt by the heat of devotion radiating off the doctor's slight form. Suddenly, it's as if Shinra and Celty are the only two beings that exist in the universe; Shizuo is an outsider looking in, watching the planets revolve around them. Celty's mouth continues to move, but he can't hear a thing. The doctor's become her sole mouthpiece, a loving and willing tool for her to use to communicate with a world illiterate and ill-versed in her tongue.

" _I thought my life was good as forfeit when the lake began moving_ ," Shinra translates. " _It swelled out of the bank like a tsunami and swept all of them up, weapons and all. They didn't even have time to scream."_

Shizuo wets his lips, the memory of dark crimson eyes flashing into his vision.

_"I thought it was going to take me next,"_ Shinra continues. _"But it didn't."_

"The deity saved you," Shizuo says hoarsely. "Just like he saved me."

Shinra finally shifts his gaze away from Celty's face, a soft smile gracing his features. Celty's own expression is mild, but there are unshed tears in her eyes, weighing down on her lower lashes like morning dew. 

"After I treated Celty's wounds, she told me she was a Dullahan and explained what they did to her. So I went back to the lake the next day to see if I could find anything from the poachers to identify where they came from," Shinra whispers. "But I couldn't even find the bodies. No one ever did."

Then Shinra's gaze cuts through the air, piercing Shizuo with the intensity of a raging wildfire. 

"Shizuo," he says firmly. "The three of us, and Kadota, are the only ones who know that Celty is a Dullahan. Memori's people are kind, but it isn't the perfect sanctuary you might think. There's no telling what will happen if anyone finds out that Celty's not human."

"I won't tell a soul," he says immediately. Then he looks to Celty, who's pressed a hand against her neck, looking at the ground. "Celty," he addresses her directly. "I won't tell anyone."

The Dullahan's hand finds Shizuo's over the kitchen table. Her fingers are cold, her palms quaking; her cerulean eyes peer into Shizuo's, so blue he loses himself in them, as if her irises are the crystal waters of the Lake of Eve rippling before him in the winter night. There's an unquestionable trust in her steady gaze. And now there's also an unspoken solidarity they share, carved out in the jagged noose that snakes its way around the pale of Celty's neck and the scars Shizuo bears on his chest and back from years of cigarette burns and cracks from riding crops, heavy blows dealt by apathetic hands, remnants of claims of ownership that still resonate against his skin.

_We're both free now,_ Celty mouths, as much a reminder to him as it is an attempt to convince herself.

"Because of _him,_ " Shizuo whispers distantly. 

_What did he look like?_ Celty wonders.

For a second, he struggles to come up with some way to describe the man he saw, anything more useful than the color of his eyes or the shimmer of his silk robes. "He was surprisingly human," Shizuo answers tentatively, recalling the curve of the other's smile, the vibrancy in his gaze. He tries to wrack his brain for anything better, something more eloquent to characterize the otherworldly beauty of the deity's eyes, to do justice to the unnatural grace of his lithe form, to explain the glimmering silver light that followed in the wake of the god's footsteps, spreading vibrancy and life everywhere he stepped; but he fails. It's an impossible task. "He was beautiful."

"Beautiful," Shinra muses. His eyes flash with understanding, as if he knows exactly what Shizuo means. The doctor's eyes flicker to Celty. "Yes, I'm sure he was."

"Yeah," Shizuo confirms. He bites his lip. "And I may have pissed him off."

Shinra finally laughs, and Shizuo finds himself finally relaxing, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. 

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Shinra chimes, striding into the kitchen. He begins digging through their pantry. "You'll have to go back up to the lake tomorrow and leave an apology offering to make things right." 

Celty squeezes Shizuo's hand. She mouths something, slow and pronounced.

"You want to go to the lake?" Shizuo asks, furrowing his brow.

Celty nods, her eyes flashing with purpose. 

' _Shizuo.'_ Her lips frame the edges of his name with such conviction he can't drag his eyes away from her face. He doesn't need a translator for what she says next. He knows her intentions before she even needs to bring them into silent existence.

_I need to meet him._

* * *

They make the trek up to the Lake of Eve early the next morning when the rest of the town is still asleep; the air is freezing, blooming snowdrops unfurling their icy petals toward the shy yellow sun. The snow crunches under their feet as they make their way up the hill, Shizuo leading. The doctor and Dullahan fell behind him at the start of their walk almost naturally, as if he's been silently elected into the position of team leader despite being less familiar with the lake than his companions. Yet the order in which they walk gradually becomes natural, just as the clear blue of the lake peering over the plateau like an oasis feels almost nostalgic sight despite its recent novelty. There's no way to explain the feeling of comfort that envelops him, stretching out to embrace his shivering form with the hazy morning mist that creeps its tendrils across the top of the bank and caresses their ankles, pushed forth by the ripples of the falls that thunder before their trembling bodies. He savors the calm.

"The offerings are gone," Shinra eventually says, breaking the sanctity of their unwitting silence. 

Shizuo perks up, his eyes shifting to follow the doctor's line of vision. The flat stone where he and the deity had bickered the night before is empty save for Celty's checkered kerchief, which has been folded neatly into a compact square. 

"Squirrels couldn't have done that," Shizuo jokes. It earns him a silent smile from Celty. 

"How polite of Eve to clean up after himself," Shinra hums pleasantly, waving their teasing off. 

Celty shifts as if to take a step forward into the water and Shizuo holds an arm off to stop her. 

"I've got this," he mumbles, stopping her in her tracks. He bends down to roll up the legs of his pants as high as they can go. "I need to apologize."

Celty pauses. Then she relinquishes her satchel to him.

Shizuo steps into the water, unable to help the hiss that escapes his lips at the biting cold that shoots through his nerves. The dirt of the lakebed, scattered with tiny green-brown pebbles, rises and stirs with every motion of his feet, tiny fish darting away in a frenzy at the disturbance he causes. He picks up the kerchief from last night and tucks it into his pocket. Then he pulls a piece of linen from Celty's bag and lays it over the offering stone.

_The bastard liked his bread,_ Shizuo thinks to himself, the deity's cocky smirk over a mouthful of wholewheat bread coming to mind. He places a quarter loaf of sweet bread in the middle of the rock. It's still warm, freshly baked from just an hour ago, its milky aroma made even more tantalizing by the melted butter and wildberry preserves Shinra smeared liberally over its top. 

"Don't forget the fruit," Shinra calls. Shizuo grunts in response, laying a bunch of violet champagne grapes and half an orange on the side. 

Once the presentation of the offering is decent, Shizuo wades back out of the water, drying his feet off at the edge. After his shoes are back on, he joins Celty and Shinra where they've taken cover under a tree, the snowfall a bit less thick underneath the barren branches. They lay out a woolen blanket and huddle together, laying two large quilts over their laps. Shinra unpacks the contents of their picnic basket. They each get their own portions of sweetbread and fruit.

And they wait.

"So, Shizuo. How did this work last night?" Shinra asks after about ten minutes, rubbing his foggy glasses against the edge of his coat. "Did he just... appear before you out of thin air? Or did he come out of the water like a giant turtle?"

"Didn't see where he came from," Shizuo grumbles. "He just... appeared all of a sudden out of nowhere."

"Ah, so no burning bushes or grand revelations," Shinra quips, unimpressed. He puts his glasses back on and turns to Celty. "Celty, could you pass me the butter?"

Celty gives the doctor a pointed look, to which he shrugs in response. 

"What? If we wait any longer it'll go cold." Then Shinra adds rather loudly, gesturing to the lake, "I'm sure the caring and lovely Eve wouldn't want us to go hungry waiting for him!"

There is, of course, no response. 

Shinra makes an amused noise. "See?"

After a bit of reluctance on Celty's part, they end up starting breakfast, eating with their hands messily over their little picnic set. The sweetbread, despite having cooled down, is still delicious, Shizuo notes; the sugary preserves matched with the salty butter melt in harmony against his tongue. They devour the loaf in no time and split their fruit up evenly. The orange is sour, so Shizuo gives his half to Shinra, who splits it with Celty. The doctor and Dullahan polish it off without complaint. 

By the time they've finished their breakfast, Memori has begun to stir beneath them. The air has gotten fractionally warmer, the sunlight marginally stronger, and the usual early risers--Kadota; Namie, the florist; Kasane and her niece, Ruri, who run the town's library; and Kuzuhara, who oversees the horse stables-- begin venturing out of their houses to start the day's errands in the merciful rays of the sun. At the sight of Kadota's silhouette moving around near the general store, distinguishable by his dark grey hat Shizuo's never seen him without, Shinra abruptly rises to his feet.

"I forgot," the doctor says, dusting the crumbs off his coat. "Kadota's dropping off sage from Namie in a little bit and I have to pay my tab. I've got to go back."

Neither Shizuo nor Celty move to stand. 

Shinra sighs, though his voice is pleasant and airy, his lilting tone visible in the chilly air as his breath escapes his lips in little white puffs. "Shizuo, make sure Celty stays warm. Don't stay out too late," he concedes.

Shizuo nods. "We'll be back by sundown." 

" _Before_ sundown," Shinra corrects, before excusing himself.

Then all is silent once again.

The deity makes no appearance even as the day stretches into the doldrums of late morning, and Celty eventually succumbs to a quiet nap on Shizuo's shoulder. He tenses when he feels the weight of her head against his arm, nearly jolting in surprise; but he manages to turn the spastic shock into tense silence, staying deathly quiet and deathly still. He's so focused on remaining as statue-like as possible that he ends up conscious of his own breathing and has to remind himself to inhale and exhale. For a while, until he can forget, he watches his breath float into the air, taking his warmth with it. Eventually he finds his rhythm, matching the cycle of Celty's gentle sleep. Then he disrupts it again at the sound of snow crunching under someone's boots.

Shizuo perks up so violently that Celty jolts awake, her mouth poised in a silent squeak of surprise. Shizuo has to remind himself that the deity was barefoot. Still, he finds it in himself to be surprised, deflating at the sight of Tom, Memori's cattle rancher, trudging up the path.

"Morning," Tom greets them with a cheerful smile, unaware of their disappointed expectations. He's dressed in fine winter clothing, befitting the wealth of his profession. Tucked under his arm is a brown paper package. 

Shizuo scents the air. It's meat. 

"Pretty cold day for a picnic," Tom says, gesturing toward their wool blanket.

Celty mouths something, and Tom looks to Shizuo to translate.

Unfortunately, he wasn't paying attention. "Uh, we're just enjoying nature," he mumbles, a half-hearted guess.

Tom laughs, unbothered. Luckily, neither is Celty.

"Oh, I see," Tom chuckles. Then the tone of his voice lifts into something playful as he eyes them carefully. "Does Dr. Kishitani know you two are out here together?"

Shizuo feels his face flare bright red at the implications of Tom's statement. Celty shifts away from him in indignation. "This isn't," he starts to say, but Tom's laughter cuts him off.

"I'm just teasing," Tom assures. "Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

Shizuo grunts and looks away; Celty pats his shoulder, her expression a bit pink, but mostly amused. "What brings you here?" Shizuo asks. 

Tom waves his paper package as if to answer. He walks straight into the lake's bank, his tall, fine-cut boots cutting through the water easily. He doesn't even flinch at the cold.

"I've had a really good winter season. Haven't lost a single cow this year," he explains, and unwraps the parchment paper. It's smoked meat, Shizuo realizes, and an expensive flank at that. Tom lays the strips of beef onto the offering stone, arranging them around the food Celty and Shizuo left. "I thought I should give my thanks to Eve for her blessing, so I brought her a little treat. Maybe she'll be good to me next year again, too."

Shizuo wets his lips, trying to stamp out the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, I'm sure _she'll_ appreciate it."

Tom glances over his shoulder with a grin, gesturing to the bread and fruit. "You two leave the rest of this?" 

When Celty nods, he beams. "Ah, very nice. Looks like a full meal now."

Tom wades out of the water and engages them in a little more polite conversation, asking them about the clinic and telling them to stop by his ranch when they have time. He even promises them he'll treat them to some cured meat. Shizuo finds that he likes Tom. The man is genuine and kind, radiating a good-natured, gentle warmth.

"He's a good guy," Shizuo mumbles once Tom's left. Celty glances at him curiously, but nods in agreement. 

They spend another fruitless hour after Tom's departure waiting, watching for absolutely nothing.

Shizuo groans. "What's taking him so long? His food's cold."

Celty gives him a look that clearly says, _be patient,_ and he huffs, leaning back against the tree. After another hour's worth of quiet staring at the water's tranquil surface, his eyes become too heavy, dragging with the fatigue from the early morning. He's aware he's nodding off, tries to fight it, knowing that he needs to be able to point the deity out to Celty if he shows face, but the Dullahan doesn't stop him when he finally gives into his exhaustion, resting his head against the bark of the pine for a short nap.

It ends up being a long one. He wakes up in the early evening, around four past noon. 

"Any luck?" Shizuo asks, groggy, blinking bleary sleep from his vision. He's barely managed to remember why they're still sitting out in the cold. Contrastingly, Celty's wide awake; her eyes stare straight ahead at the offering stone where the bread, fruit, and meat lay undisturbed. She shakes her head defeatedly. 

They wait one last hour for the deity, up until the sun stretches down to the horizon. Then, true to their word, they return to the clinic with little to show for their efforts.

* * *

They try again the next day. 

Shinra's busy with some patients throughout the morning and afternoon--easy appointments, just routine examinations--and tells them he doesn't need their assistance, that they're free to do what they want with their free day, which directly translates into the fact that he's still willing to humor them. They don't question the leeway, immediately packing up the foodstuffs for Eve's offerings and setting out in the snow.

They bring from the clinic an entire dried and sliced apple and a whole orange, and on their way to the lake, Shizuo ends up buying three persimmons from Namie, seeing the tree in her yard just beginning to bear fruit. "Maybe we need to tempt him with more food," Shizuo suggests, and Celty seems to agree. After a round of ineffective haggling, his pockets a great deal lighter as a result of his surrendered wages and his mood just a bit sour with regret, he and Celty trek their way back up to the lake. It's a little warmer than yesterday.

"Hey," Shizuo mumbles in surprise when Celty sharply tugs at his sleeve. He follows her pointed finger to the offering stone at the bank and furrows his brow. "There's no one there." 

Celty shakes her head impatiently, and pulls him closer to the water's edge where he understands what she was gesturing at. The bread and fruit they left yesterday are gone, the stem of the grapes left behind. Surprisingly, the meat Tom left--easily the most expensive offering there--lies untouched on the kerchief. 

"Guess you're his favorite," Shizuo jokes. 

Celty beams at him. 

Celty's cheer ends up being contagious. He can't help but feel a bit more relaxed and a bit more hopeful that the deity might show himself as they add today's offerings to the stone and set their picnic up near the lake's bank, sharing their breakfast under the same tree as yesterday. 

The slow haze of the winter day stretches quietly into the early afternoon before their eyes. Right around the time Shizuo's struggling to resist falling asleep under their quilts, once again resigned to disappointment, Celty pokes him in the shoulder, her eyes alit with the telltale signs of a clever idea.

_Give thanks,_ she mouths, little white puffs of her breath escaping from her silent lips. She gestures to the edge of the water.

"Huh?" Shizuo asks dumbly. 

Celty nods, putting her hands together in the motion of a prayer, mimicking the crouching stance she took three days ago during Shizuo's first visit to the lake. The sight refreshes his memory, and she smiles, seeing understanding bloom across his face. 

He realizes she's dead set on this, and makes a reluctant noise in the back of his throat despite moving to stand. He feels her eyes locked onto his back as he approaches the edge of the water, fish swimming away as his reflection comes to shine on the surface of the lake. Their tails send little ripples over his face, smudging the edges of his grumpy frown. He kneels.

"I, uh," he starts, unclenching his jaw, running his tongue over his teeth and wetting his lips. His voice is croaky. "I should apologize for jumping to conclusions the other night. I didn't know who you were. I thought you were a thief taking Celty's food."

He can almost hear the deity laughing, and bites back a growl of irritation.

"I meant what I said earlier, though. When I thanked you for giving me a second chance," he forces himself to admit. "I still mean it. I'm grateful for you saving me, even if I didn't act like it yesterday. Sorry."

He pauses, sparing a glance back at the Dullahan who watches him with expectant, yet encouraging eyes.

"I'm grateful you saved Celty, too," Shizuo says to himself, as if he's conversing now with his reflection that scowls back at him from the surface of the crystal waters. Suddenly picturing the deity watching him, he reddens a little, and self-consciously tries to smooth out the disgruntled expression on his face, making his features better match the sentiment of his words. "She and Shinra told me about what happened, how you saved her when she really needed your help. She really wants to meet you, you know. Could you just come out for a little bit and say hi?"

A beat.

He scowls. "Yeah, well, it was worth a shot."

There's no luck for the rest of the day, as expected. Although it takes some time for him to convince Celty to retire for the day, they end up making it back to the clinic before sunset. Shinra's prepared dinner. After they eat, Celty retires to bed early and Shizuo and Shinra are left alone at the fireplace.

"I'll need Celty's help tomorrow during Mika's appointment, and I need you to go run some errands for me in the morning," Shinra tells him as he flips through a book, the sound of crinkling paper accentuating the crackle of the flames that dance across the reflection of the doctor's lenses. 

"I have to make sure my apology's been accepted," Shizuo mutters, though it sounds half-hearted once he's spoken it into existence.

"I think Eve's already forgiven you, seeing as you haven't been cursed and haven't drowned up there yet," Shinra responds, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. "Maybe in the spring when it's warmer you two can try again." 

As much as it sounds like a suggestion, Shizuo knows it's not.

"Okay."

* * *

Shizuo finishes his deliveries early the next day.

It was actually nice, getting to move around and focus on an actual task, rather than waiting around all day at the lake. He'd gotten the chance to visit Kadota and his crew on the way back from Kuzuhara's ranch, and was able to introduce himself properly to some of the older folks he hadn't yet met while dropping off their medicines. 

_It feels nice to be a part of the community,_ Shizuo thinks. It's such a mundane thought, and perhaps it's sad that such a boring, everyday existence is the one he feels most thankful for; but he doesn't feel shame in acknowledging the fact of his contentedness, the enjoyment he gets out of the smallest of interactions with people who are just nice for the sake of being nice. As far back as he can remember, he's always wanted this kind of boring, peaceful life.

It's probably because he's feeling sentimental, a little overwhelmed by nothing at all, that he gives into a particularly childish desire. 

On his way back to the clinic, passing through the village marketplace, he lets himself peer into the window of the Sonohara family's confectionary: a tiny little business they run from their house, sandwiched between Tom's shop and the dairy shack. The window opens directly in front of their glass display of baked goods and sweets--small tarts and pies, rice cakes, custard puddings, and a vast assortment of chocolates. He was never given anything other than a standard laborer's meal at the capital; he'd always been forced to watch the young master of the family eat his dessert before taking away the empty plates, with still too much dignity to risk trying any crumbs or leftovers. And even when he was sent off on errands in the city, he'd never had any money of his own to buy anything.

Shizuo fiddles with the wages in his pocket. He enters the shop.

"Welcome." Anri, the Sonohara's only child, who can't be more than maybe thirteen, greets him from the register. She's a quiet kid, always well-behaved, and often waves at Shizuo from the window when he passes by. "What would you like?" She asks him shyly.

He stands there for far too long trying to make a decision, eventually pointing at the caramels. "Just one," he says.

Anri opens up the glass display and hands him a paper bag. He gives her a handful of gold pieces in return.

"Thanks," he says, a little too late to be normal. He's turning on his heel to leave the shop, his ears hot with an embarrassment he can't explain, when a small hand timidly grabs at his wrist. 

Anri presses something into his hands. It's wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with a golden ribbon.

"I didn't pay for this," Shizuo protests, but she's already running back behind the counter. 

"Mom says it's on the house," Anri says demurely, peering at him from behind the glass display. "It's a treat to commemorate your first month in Memori."

A normal person, he thinks, would smile and accept the gift, say something cheerful and bright. He fumbles for something to say, nothing he tests out in his head suitable for how touched he is at this little parcel of candy. _Anri doesn't know, her mom doesn't know who I was before I came here,_ Shizuo tells himself. It'll be weird, uncomfortable, if he's honest about how much this means to him when they just see it as a little gesture of appreciation for his business. But he can't help himself, at least not from expressing the sentiment in the state of his features; his face is already twisting into something awkward, something shaky and unanticipated, not at all the gracious acceptance Anri's no doubt expecting. 

He ducks his head to hide his eyes and settles on something nondescript. "Thank you. I'll be back soon."

Anri smiles at him, blissfully unaware of his innter turmoil, and he nods before turning out of the shop, staggering out of the marketplace dazedly. He passes the clinic, offering a half-aware wave of greeting to Mika, who steps out of its doors. Before he knows it, his feet are carrying him up a familiar path decorated by blooming snowdrops, his eyes resting on the serenity of the Lake of Eve in all its majesty of the early evening. The elegant light of the sun, just beginning to gravitate toward the horizon, shines streaks of orange and pink against the crystal waters. The air is warmer than it's ever been.

Shizuo feels as if he's in a trance, but at the same time, moves with surprising purpose. He drops his shoes onto the bank and wades into the cold water, stopping before the offering stone. The fruits from yesterday are gone but the meat Tom left remains. 

With shivering hands, he unwraps the package Anri gifted him: it's a bar of white chocolate. 

He's never tasted it before, has only seen it through the windows of the most expensive confectionaries from the city, but places it onto the kerchief laying over the offering stone all the same. 

After he's laced his shoes back up, he sits at the edge of the lake, watching the fish swim idly through the shallows, their rainbow fins cutting through the water like the loveliest of knives. He's calm now, the flush from his face gone, the embarrassment further off in his memory. He opens up the paper bag and pops a square of caramel into his mouth. 

It's sweet and smooth; he savors the sugary taste, clicking the candy against his teeth. Before it dissolves completely he replaces it with another, and he sits, eating, as the sun drags itself slowly down the sky.

He doesn't even realize he's crying, that there are warm, salty tears running down his cheeks, until he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the water and sees the bloodshot red of his eyes and the nostalgic misery, laced with a gratitude he can't voice, tugging at the sides of his lips. He pushes his palm up the side of his face to catch the tears, tries to laugh at his stupid face in the water and ends up sobbing instead.

He leans back to watch the sunset and eventually ends up on his back, snow seeping into his clothes, but can't bring himself to care despite the chill that surrounds his trembling body. His skin stings. 

He finishes his caramels and closes his eyes.

* * *

He wakes up to light retreating from darkness, the shadow of the orange sunset streaking across the snow, flushing the cold and gloomy white of the landscape with a few final, weak bursts of yellow and pink as it retreats across the horizon lethargically. He rubs his eyes, sits himself up, and blearily blinks at the vision of the lake. His back is wet, his damp hair curling uncomfortably against his nape; he rubs the back of his neck, squeezing at his sore muscles, and grimaces when his fingers come back damp.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," a familiar voice chimes. 

Shizuo stares in disbelief, jerking to the right where the red-eyed deity sits, perched on the balls of his feet. 

He looks exactly the same as he did three nights ago--clad in the same dark robes, barefoot, floating over the powdery snow effortlessly--but the colors of the evening sky somehow distinguish his features from the night before, accentuating his ethereal beauty with an otherworldliness that leaves Shizuo breathless for a second time, pulling any coherent greeting from his lips. It's as if the god's ivory skin is a canvas, nature dragging her colorful palms across the regal slope of his cheekbones and pressing her painted lips against the curve of his eyelids and the perfect arch of his cupid's bow, leaving proof of her favor streaked across his gorgeous face. His carmine eyes flash with mirth, a saccharine smile tugging at the corners of his plush mouth. 

"You," Shizuo breathes.

"Yes, me," the man chirps. "So good to see you again, Shizu-chan." 

"Shizu-chan?" Shizuo asks incredulously. 

The deity stays put, looking up at him from his position on the ground with a sharp, mischievous smile that cuts through any last fog of sleep still clouding Shizuo's mind. "What do you think? You should feel honored that I've decided to reappear for you, _and_ give you a special nickname." Then he adds sweetly, "I think it's rather cute one, no? Took me three whole days to come up with it. I'm afraid that's why I've been so scarce; apologies."

When Shizuo offers nothing but a nonplussed expression, the deity laughs, rising and striding over to the water's edge, his clothes trailing behind him like a vision, floating in the evening air. He takes a seat on the water just behind his offering stone, crossing his legs gracefully. 

"You've had the time to eat what Celty left for you," Shizuo points out slowly, though it comes across as more accusatory than he intended.

"Ah, you caught me. Tell her the food was delicious as always." He laces his fingers together and rests his chin over them, beaming sunnily at Shizuo. "And I do love persimmons. What a thoughtful touch from you, Shizu-chan."

Shizuo scowls, his cheeks beginning to flush pink. "Yeah, well, don't expect any more."

"Stingy," the deity snickers, then turns his attention to the food sitting on his offering stone. He completely ignores the dried meat, Shizuo notices, breaking off a corner of the white chocolate bar. "Say, Shizu-chan, what is this?"

Shizuo furrows his brow. "Chocolate." 

"Ugh," the man quips, dropping the sweet back onto the kerchief and wrinkling his nose as if he's touched dirt. "Who left this?" 

When Shizuo doesn't answer, he looks at him pointedly. "It was you, wasn't it, Shizu-chan?"

"Got something against sweets?" he grumbles.

"I'm disappointed in your judgement," the deity chides, but his expression gives away his humor, his lip curling in childish delight. "You are officially demoted to my least-favorite mortal in Memori. Prepare to be smited from the land." He wiggles his fingers for effect.

Shizuo snorts. "What are you, twelve?"

"Says the grown man with the tastebuds of a child."

Shizuo scowls.

The deity gestures to the untouched meat that Tom left him a couple days ago, letting out a troubled sigh. Shizuo feels a vein on his forehead begin to throb as the immortal scrunches up his nose; yet his irritation with the other man's pickiness is curbed by his amusement at how childish the other man looks. 

"You know, Shizu-chan," the deity starts, lowering his gaze with clear disappointment, "after all these years you'd think that humans would learn what I like to eat and what I don't. It's a waste if you mortals leave me food I won't touch."

"I didn't even know you could actually eat," Shizuo argues. 

"Ah, yes--the woefully unimaginative minds of mortals can't fathom I have a corporeal form. Or preferences, for that matter," the deity drawls. 

Shizuo stiffens."Aren't offerings supposed to be more symbolic anyway? It's the thought that counts." 

The deity rolls his eyes, gesturing to the smoked meat on his offering stone. "Shizu-chan, if someone gave you a pile of trash as a gift and said it symbolized their gratitude, would you still accept it?"

He narrows his eyes dangerously. "Tom's gift isn't trash."

"May as well be. I won't eat it," the god quips, then his expression shifts to one of lazy dismay. "And even when you mortals give me something good, you're always sticking around and dawdling. By the time you're finally gone, the food's cold." He clicks his tongue and lies down on the lake, the surface of the water not so much as even rippling as the deity stretches and makes himself comfortable.

Shizuo feels his eye twitching, cold realization dawning on him--the god's impatience, the offerings that disappeared the next day but never so much as shifted when he and Celty were waiting at the lake--it hits him like blunt force to the head. "You were watching me and Celty waiting for you," he says. "You were there the entire time, weren't you?"

"What if I was?" The deity grins.

"You should've acknowledged her," Shizuo hisses. 

"Shizu-chan," the deity chides, as if speaking to a child. "I don't know if you've realized this, but you're the only person who can hear or see me. Even if I'd showed myself to you and your little fairy friend, you'd look like you were talking to yourself like a madman. I was doing you a favor."

"Why am I the only one who can see you?" Shizuo asks, his face twisting in confusion. 

The deity curls his lip, a condescending counterfeit of a smile. "Only mortals I've physically touched are aware of my presence."

"Touched?" Shizuo repeats, wracking his brain for the memory of their first meeting, and coming up with no recollection of such an interaction. "When did..."

"The night you fell from my waterfall," the deity answers, cutting him off shortly. He points up at the cliffs behind him. The falls thunder, crashing into the lake relentlessly, a hazy, pale mist rising from the surface of collision and creeping its way slowly toward the bank. The deity makes a thoughtful noise, tilting his head playfully, red eyes shining. "I debated helping you, to be quite honest. I thought you were already dead and that the gentleman on the horse was disposing of your body."

Shizuo growls, his fists clenching at the memory. "I jumped in myself," he clarifies, feeling his lips pull back in an indignant display of resentment. 

The deity smiles, intrigued, and dips his head, as if in apology. "You'll have to forgive me, I didn't know of your circumstances at the time. I legitimately thought that he was littering by dumping you into my falls." Shizuo growls a warning, which only serves to pull the god's smile back further along the sides of his slender face. He croons sweetly, staring straight into Shizuo's eyes: "I was going to drown him for the insult."

"Did you?" Shizuo asks, and is disgusted with himself immediately, the mix of horror and hopefulness too clearly present in his voice. He wets his lips, trying again. "You didn't," he says, and it sounds a little less interested.

"No, I didn't," the god replies, his crimson eyes flashing with an edge of intensity that knocks the breath from Shizuo's lungs. "Because I realized you were alive."

There's a pause as Shizuo takes in the deity's words, considers what the night must have been like for the other's point of view. He can barely remember anything after he jumped into the river, other than the dog and the feeling of vertigo as he was launched off of the side of the cliff, the single moment he was suspended in the air. After that, everything was dark. Was this man--this god--watching from the bottom of the lake as he plummeted from the falls? Was he watching from the river? At what point did he know Shizuo was still alive? Did he feel the waters carrying his body down, feel the weight of his struggling breaths and the thrashing of his arms against the current?

"You changed your mind," Shizuo states, numbly. "When you realized I could still be saved."

"And I softened your fall," the deity finishes with a hum. For a second Shizuo almost thinks the god's tone and expression are affectionate--but the light casts itself against the deity's eyes with a different shift, and the emotion is gone. "I must admit that it's remarkable you survived, even with my help. I thought you'd break every bone in your body if you were _lucky._ I had a hard time believing you were still breathing when you surfaced in my water, but unfortunately, you'd landed face-down. I waited for you to turn yourself over, but you didn't." 

As if demonstrating the scene, the god claps his left hand over his right, palms turned inward, sandwiched together. He peers up at Shizuo from under his lashes, his lips pulling into an amused curve. "It was quite pitiful, to think you'd survived everything up until then, only to die because you'd fallen the wrong way."

Shizuo deflates a little, clenching his fists shut and then flexing them open, stretching to try to regain some feeling in his fingertips. He's dizzy with comprehension, lightheaded, and remembers what Shinra had said moments after he opened his eyes--namely, how lucky he was that he'd been discovered face-up floating in the lake. The contradictory facts suddenly give way to revelation. "You flipped me over."

"I did," Eve's deity confirms pleasantly. 

"Why?"

The deity looks taken aback for a moment. Then, he tilts his head curiously, flashing a playful smile that electrifies Shizuo, his his skin breaking out into gooseflesh. "Well, why not? I do have an affinity for monsters," the deity purrs, his voice silky and sweet. Something suggestive shines in the dark of his ruby irises, as if a coy innuendo sits in wait at the press of his soft pink lips. "And you, Shizu-chan, are as monstrous as they come."

"I'm no monster," Shizuo replies, but it's barely convincing even to himself. 

The deity's tongue wets his lips as his mouth pulls back into a crooked smirk. The act brings a severe red flush to Shizuo's cheeks, and the deity's amusement only intensifies; he turns away to hide his face, a curse fumbling its way from his mouth. 

"Oh Shizu-chan. I think I'll keep you after all," the god chimes.

"Don't call me that," Shizuo grumbles under his breath, willing his face to cool down. Still, he feels flushed and warm, even in the freezing chill of the winter air. Once he's regained trust over the shade of his cheeks, he turns back to face the deity, who smiles at him patiently. For a second, Shizuo's lost in the beauty of the immortal's face, just as he was when they first met two nights ago, and he wonders how he might describe the other to Celty and Shinra were he given a second chance.

_Human,_ is what comes to mind first: the mirth in those red eyes and the natural curve of those eloquent lips is so strikingly human, so clearly a reflection of emotion that any normal person would assume were foreign to immortal beings, that it's the most startling feature about Eve's deity. Of course, there are the obvious descriptors, _beautiful_ and _otherworldly_ and _ethereal_ that come to mind next, painted into being definitively by the glow of the god's snow-white skin, the slope of his slender nape, the grace of his lithe form. But then there are contradictions, ones that add such nuance to the person in front of him that Shizuo has to scrap everything he's come up with so far. The deity is simultaneously _dangerous,_ Shinra's words from two nights ago-- _we never even found the bodies --_ highlighting the deity's cunning gaze with villainous connotations; but he's also _fragile,_ his thin wrists swallowed up by the heavy dark fabric of his silk sleeves, dainty fingertips pressed against the surface of the lake, sharp angles of his collarbone exposed by the lowered neckline of his robes; and he's _merciful_ too, the roaring cry of the waterfall a threat as to what could have been of Shizuo's fate had the deity not intervened. 

He's been staring for too long now, but the blush has subsided from his face, a thoughtful, but unreadable expression etched into his features as he tries to comprehend the being in front of him. The deity looks curious, now, a dark brow raised at Shizuo's confused expression. "Shizu-chan," he ventures, and continues when there's no response. "You're thinking too hard for your little mortal head. You'll overheat if you keep it up."

"Shut up," Shizuo mumbles, the protest falling short.

The deity chuckles. "What's going through that pea-sized brain of yours?" He presses. "Humor me."

Shizuo makes a tentative noise in the back of his throat, swallowing dryly. 

"What's your name?"

The god falters a bit, his body jerking slightly. "What?" He asks, his brow furrowed.

Shizuo wets his lips, wincing at the feeling of cold, chapped skin against his tongue. "Your name," he repeats, drinking in the bewildered expression of the immortal, who eyes him suspiciously. He doubts the god has ever been caught off guard by a mortal's question before, almost feels proud of himself that he's rattled the other man; but genuinely, he needs to know an answer to the question, has to have something to call this person who sits before him--one word that encompasses this strange, contradictory being that twists every descriptor he brandishes into failed phrases and futile attempts. "Everyone in Memori calls you the deity of the lake, or just Eve," Shizuo explains. "Is that actually your name?" 

"Eve," the god muses, and shakes his head as if to chase away the word from his lips. "No, not even close. Who came up with that?"

Shizuo shrugs. "I'm newer to this place than you are, I wouldn't know." Then, out of a childish desire to elicit a response from the other, adds: "some of the townspeople think you're a woman."

A choke of amusement escapes the deity, nearly startling Shizuo backward. It's different from his usual melodic, controlled laughter; it's sharp and sudden, accompanied by astonished glee. "A _woman,_ Shizu-chan?"

"They don't have much to go off of," Shizuo defends them, but can't keep away the smile that creeps its way unrestrained onto his face. 

"Yes, I suppose that's true," the deity muses. Then he throws a coquettish glance towards Shizuo, his eyelashes fluttering against the top of his cheeks. 

"Well Shizu-chan, I'm willing to be whatever the good people of Memori want me to be," he purrs, the suggestiveness of the statement so palpable it strikes Shizuo like a jab to the chest, shooting red warmth into his face, so intense he thinks for a second the air must be defrosting around the heat of his cheeks. The god snickers at his reaction, a pleased grin spreading across his pretty face as he waves his fingers through the air playfully. "Human genders and human names don't really apply to my existence. My being transcends both language and the social constructs of you mortals."

"Still," Shizuo finds it in himself to respond, "you must have some kind of name you prefer." _Something more personal than the deity of the lake,_ he wants to say.

The god considers Shizuo's expression thoughtfully, and rises from his position on the surface of the water. He's suddenly on all fours, leaning over his offering stone, his shining form edging closer to Shizuo until his face is just a few inches away. Instinctively, Shizuo leans back, only for the small distance gained to be quickly closed by the deity's persistent pursuit; their noses nearly bump, the god's lips furling open in a breathless whisper, a quiet laugh that rings through the air like silver bells. 

_Too close,_ Shizuo thinks, his mind quickly numbing as his gaze is locked into shining red eyes, his reflection gazing back dumbly at him from those crimson pools. 

"I'll tell you," the deity says softly, his eyes greedily devouring Shizuo's expression, committing it to memory. When he speaks, Shizuo's eyes fall to the movement of his lips, the slow curve of his mouth that eases into a relaxed whisper. "A century ago, the people of this land used to refer to me as 'he who watches over the crowd.'"

"He who watches," Shizuo repeats, dumbfounded.

"Yes," the god says. " _Izaya._ "

Shizuo suddenly remembers to exhale as the deity pulls back and sliding over the lake to sit cross-legged, resting his hands on his thighs. He can see the warmth of his own breath escaping him, floating into the air, can feel the tremors quaking over his body as he sucks his lower lip into his mouth, pressing his teeth down so unwittingly hard he almost winces. "Izaya," he repeats, testing the feel of it out on his tongue. 

"You should feel honored that I've shown myself to you twice now _and_ given you my name," Izaya drawls, his pleasant, teasing smile pulling up at the corners of his face. He rests his cheek lazily against the palm of his hand, eyeing Shizuo playfully. "Any truly grateful mortal would drop to his knees and beg to be my priest."

"Why don't you already have one?" Shizuo asks, realization distracting him. Izaya pauses. "Don't deities have shrines or altars? Why am I the only one that you've let talk to you?"

Izaya waves a hand dismissively, clicking his tongue. "It was just a joke, Shizu-chan," he chides, but there's a little bite to his words.

"You're not seriously trying to tell me that you're satisfied with just a rock?" Shizuo questions, gesturing to the offering stone that sits between them, the chocolate and meat on the kerchief. It's really not big enough for much else. He waves his arm vaguely, fumbling through his confusion. "Aren't gods supposed to be more... demanding?"

Izaya sighs, shaking his head. His short dark locks swish from side to side. "Oh, Shizu-chan. You disappoint me with your outdated stereotypes."

The blonde scowls. "Oh, really?"

Izaya hums affirmatively. "I simply don't see the purpose of spending all my time with mortals. Gods who take on their little cult followings become dependent on humans to be their mouthpieces; they get too close, too indebted to their caretakers." His voice gains a derisive edge, something snide. "I don't see the benefit in making myself a pet for mere mortals."

"A pet?" Shizuo asks.

"A pet," Izaya repeats himself, rolling his eyes. "At the beck and call of arrogant humans who demand divine favors in return for food, drink, and affection." At Shizuo's expression of disbelief, he tuts, tilting his head. "Although considering the difference in our lifespans, perhaps it's the other way around. Some deities like making friends with mortals, ensuring good harvests and blessing their newborns and things like that, all for the sake of friendship. But every year you human beings die off like cattle, in the blink of an eye."

The god's sardonic words pierce him. "We're just livestock to you," he says quietly.

Izaya's eyes run up and down his face. "Yes, or perhaps feral dogs," he says eventually, voice devoid of emotion. "Why spend my precious time domesticating such useless beasts?"

His jaw clenches painfully. "Right."

"Oh, don't be hurt," Izaya croons sweetly, his expression twisting into something cruel and saccharine, like poisoned strands of sugar floss. "Even from afar, I still love you little mortals. Especially creatures like you." 

"I'm a human," Shizuo grits out through grinding teeth. His fist clenches and unclenches uselessly at his side.

Izaya smiles, his lopsided smirk sharp as knives. "No, Shizu-chan, you're a monster through and through."

The blonde swallows down his protests, cheeks flushing with quiet shame. Izaya laughs, his voice ringing innocently in the air like a gentle stream of water trickling down a brook. "Speaking of monsters," Izaya chimes, "how is your little fairy friend?"

"Celty's not a monster," Shizuo corrects stubbornly.

"Sure she isn't. She's just a Dullahan," Izaya intones, mockingly. He grins, looking at the edge of the bank with thoughtful precision, as if locating a particularly distant memory in the back of his mind. "You know, the decay of her captors made my waters rancid for weeks. How is she doing?"

"You already know the answer. You've seen her waiting for you every day," Shizuo replies impatiently, the weary form of his friend coming to mind. "She wants to meet you and thank you for saving her life."

Izaya _tsks_ , shaking his head. "Like I explained to you before, Shizu-chan, you're the only one who can see me," the god reminds him. "Even if I felt like showing up, she wouldn't be know. And what good would it be for her to talk to the air like an idiot?" Then he adds, as if it's an afterthought, "I can't read lips the way you or the good doctor can."

"I'll translate," Shizuo offers immediately, desperation creeping its way into his voice. Izaya looks taken aback by his quick response, but he pays the god no mind; he'd be embarrassed if he weren't begging on Celty's behalf. "She really wants to meet you; you saved her life. She's thankful," he presses emphatically.

Izaya waves a hand, dismissive. "Yes, I've gathered so much from her weekly offerings," he says, tone condescending. "She can consider her debt effectively repaid."

Shizuo can't help the sound of frustration that escapes him. "You don't get it," he growls, irritation creeping its way into his body, his shoulders tensing up as his voice begins to strain. "She doesn't know you're watching, doesn't know you're even here when she comes. Can't you just, I don't know, poke her or something, just so she can see you?" 

Izaya laughs sharply, and Shizuo flushes in hot indignation.

"As much as I enjoy seeing you humans worship me, I don't make it a habit of touching every simpering human who wants to see my face," Izaya replies pointedly, an infuriating strain of arrogance twisting his beautiful features into a surprisingly cruel expression, as if Shizuo and Celty and the other mortals of Memori are less than insects under Izaya's feet. "Like I told you before: I don't like animals and I'm not interested in collecting strays." 

A growl rumbles deep in his chest. "You liked _me_ enough to let me see you _,_ " Shizuo says, the words shooting past his lips before he can think better of his forwardness. 

"Oh, Shizu-chan. What other choice did I have?" Izaya coos. "Your corpse would have dirtied my lake."

The cutting cruelty of the god's words stings like a slap to the face, leaving him breathless from the blow. His eyes scour Izaya's features for even the slightest hint of amusement, for just the subtlest cue of playful dishonesty, but there's nothing: just derisive disdain that colors the god's beautiful face. 

"You're an asshole," Shizuo growls bitterly, rising to his feet and dusting the snow from his coat. He's immediately assaulted by pins and needles from the waist down, the sudden movement setting fire to his numbed legs. He's stumbling a little, clumsy from sitting so long and fatigued by the cold, but he shoulders through the exhaustion, tensing his shoulders as he looks down at Izaya, drawing to his full height.

"Say, before you go," Izaya calls, dangling up one of the strips of meat Tom left him with an expression of pure disgust, "could you promise me you'll tell the rancher that while I _so_ appreciate his offerings, I don't like meat?" He drops the flank of beef back onto the kerchief, his eyes lowering, flashing with crimson-colored haughtiness as he regards the white chocolate Shizuo left him next. "Nasty offerings like these attracts all sorts of pests at the end of the day."

"Fuck you," Shizuo snaps, unable to reign back the fury that propels the curse from his lips, smoking red-hot in the back of his throat. Izaya looks at him, his coy smile sharpening, and Shizuo decides the best title for the deity is not 'he who watches', nor is the best descriptor _human_ or _beautiful_ or _merciful,_ not in any way. "You're cruel," Shizuo decides, the revelation not comforting in the slightest, despite the nuance of the immortal before him giving away to preferred simplicity. "You don't deserve these people's gratitude." 

"Remember your place, Shizu-chan," Izaya warns. "I'm not known for being particularly forgiving." 

"Neither am I," Shizuo spits. "I'm going home."

Izaya doesn't respond.

Shizuo turns on his heel and stalks off, careless on the path he takes without natural light to guide his way home. In the faint moonlight, too weak to protest his careless rage, he crumples fragile snowdrops under his feet, crushing their innocent white petals against the earth.

* * *

Shizuo doesn't have to say anything once he's returned. He's too late for it to be normal, no excuse good enough to justify his frustrated gait nor the frosty chill clinging to the damp of his clothes; Celty and Shinra are waiting for him at the dining table over cold bowls of soup, their eyes cautiously following his staggering form. The soft drip of guilt cools his anger for a moment. Although he'd like nothing more than to change his clothes and head straight to bed, he slides into his seat at the table across the two lovers instead, exhaling a heavy breath and grabbing his spoon.

_What's wrong?_ Celty mouths, the worry so clear in her eyes that Shizuo only has to half-watch the movement of her lips. 

"I dropped by the lake on my way home and fell asleep in the snow," Shizuo responds bluntly. Their expectant gazes pierce him with their unspoken questions. He makes the conscious decision to leave out the details of the caramels and chocolates, hissing out a sigh before shoving a spoonful of cold broth into his mouth and continuing. "He was there when I woke up."

"What did he say?" Shinra presses, pushing his dinner away so that he can prop himself up on his elbows over the table. 

Shizuo's dangerously close to telling them the truth, caustically ripping into Izaya's blatant refusal to meet Celty, his insults of Tom and his offerings, his haughty disregard for the people of Memori-- but he thinks better of it at the last moment, with a glance toward Celty, whose cerulean eyes shimmer with impatient hope. He swallows his criticism with another mouthful of soup, settling on: "he said he liked the offerings."

Celty's face breaks out in relief.

Shinra makes a thoughtful noise, weaving his fingers together and resting his chin over the canopy he's made with his hands. His lip quirks as it always does when he's considering an especially riveting problem, be it medical or not. "Why didn't he tell Celty himself?" He questions inquisitively, frowning. "Why make you the middle man?"

"I'm the only one who can see him," Shizuo grunts.

"Come again?"

"He said that only those he's touched can sense him," Shizuo clarifies, voice rumbling into the edges of a frustrated growl. The doctor doesn't seem to pick up on it, but Celty's eyes flash with concern. "I don't know how it all works."

"When did he touch you?" Shinra asks plainly.

"When I came down the waterfall," Shizuo breathes, trying to undo the knot that's forming in his stomach. He's really, _really_ not in the mood for playing twenty questions with Shinra, but he owes them some answers for the time they've spent waiting at the like for Izaya, for his foul mood they have to put up with. He elaborates, "I fell face-down in the lake and he flipped me over."

"Ah," Shinra beams. "I _knew_ it was physically improbable that you surfaced right-side-up."

Shizuo growls. "He only did it because he didn't want my body to stink up his lake."

Celty frowns deeply, her head cocked to the side in offended disbelief on Shizuo's behalf. _Really? S_ he mouthes, her eyebrows knit together.

"Maybe he was joking," Shinra offers neutrally, either sensing the tension in the air and choosing to ignore it, or speaking with painful obliviousness; Shizuo honestly can't tell which it is. 

"Pretty shitty joke."

The doctor waves his hands about imaginatively, as if constructing a backstory for the deity he's only interacted with through Shizuo's second hand accounts. "Since he can only really interact with you, he might be rusty with his people skills."

Shizuo huffs a strand of hair out of his eyes to avoid glaring at his friend. "Yeah, sure."

Shinra hums, ignoring the sarcasm. Then his expression breaks out into cheerful curiosity, the researcher in him breaking free of the constraints of social normalcy. "Do you think he's totally omniscient?" Shinra blurts, enthused. "Could he be eavesdropping on our conversation right now?"

"Fuck if I know," Shizuo snaps.

Shinra deflects the aggression with a wave of his hand. "Since you've only seen him at the lake, maybe he's confined to that space," he muses. "He knew it was us who left him the offerings, so he's able to watch us even if he's not present for you to detect..." He trails off into unintelligible mumbling before perking up with excitement. "How fascinating!"

Celty mimics Shinra's thoughtful demeanor, but with greater restraint. She's speaking silently but her words are fast with her excitement, so much so that she has to repeat herself so that Shizuo can piece together her thoughts. _Do you think he'll meet us?_

Shizuo's response sits heavy at the back of his tongue. The hope that colors Celty's face, filling it with bright meaning, grabs at his limbs, rooting him to his chair like heavy chains. He can't bring himself to tell the truth, so he lies vaguely instead. "I don't know."

Still, flames ignite in the Dullahan's eyes, sparking fiery determination into her expression. She doesn't even have to say it.

"You want to try again tomorrow," Shizuo says.

Celty nods.

There's dark, hopeless dread curling in on itself at the bottom of his stomach, spreading numbness across his limbs. His hands feel like they've turned to stone, as he sets his spoon down on the table, running his tongue against the inner curve of his teeth and drumming his fingers heavily against the tabletop in an attempt to regain feeling in his nerves. "Celty, I..." He trails off, but has no idea how to finish his sentence. _I don't think that's a good idea,_ he considers. _Never meet your heroes. Don't get your hopes up. He's not what you're expecting._ He rejects all of these, thinking for a second of telling the truth: _he_ _doesn't want to see you._

But he refuses to speak it into existence.

"How exciting," Shinra chirps from the corner of his room, flipping through his journal of appointments for the next day. "We'll head out in the evening."

* * *

"Goddamnit," Shizuo grumbles, bitterly contrasting the staggering weight of the basket of persimmons in his arms against his feather-lightness of his coin bag jostling about in his pocket. Namie had been less than pleased when Shizuo, Shinra, and Celty interrupted her dinner with her brother, and had not only charged them extra for the persimmons, but also told them to pick the fruit themselves. Of course, Shizuo had been the one to do so, climbing up the brittle weight of the tree to painstakingly pick a dozen persimmons; a bough had nearly cracked in his iron grip, dumping a pile of snow over his head. Celty and Shinra had dusted the frost off for him, but his ears still feel cold.

"There's no way he's gonna eat all of these," Shizuo mutters, scowling into the basket.

"It's the thought that counts," Shinra chirps with a sunny smile. Shizuo resists the urge to deck him.

They make their way up the path to the Lake of Eve when the sun is just beginning to make its slow descent down the sky, orange beams of light streaking across the snow. Shizuo bites his lip at the sight of trampled flowers, is careful with the placement of his feet the entire way up the trail, whispering short notes of apologies to nature for the results of his anger. Fortunately, Celty and Shinra leave him be, not commenting on his mumbling. 

As the hill steeps off into a plateau, the lake in all of its tranquil, crystal beauty creeps into sight, the rush of the waterfall humming in his ears. Izaya is nowhere to be seen.

Shinra wrinkles his nose, pointing at the offering stone, which is covered in ants. "Who left chocolate here?" He folds the kerchief up at its corners, wading out of the water and flinging its contents into the shrubbery. Little black dots fly into the snow. 

Shizuo busies himself with arranging the offerings on the stone, hoping neither Shinra nor Celty catch a glimpse of the bright red heat that spreads out across his cheeks. "Fuck," he hisses quietly; Izaya's disgusted face flashes in his head, and he groans, feeling his blood pressure preemptively rising as he arranges the persimmons in a pile over the rock. 

By the time he's precariously secured the fruits, making sure they won't fall into the water, snow has begun to fall. Little white puffs of ice settle onto the top of his head, dusting his shoulders with dampness. He joins Celty and Shinra at the bed of the lake's edge. Yet there's no sign of the deity, no sound of trilling laughter or even the barest glimpse of mocking red eyes; by the end of their first hour in wait, the cold has made its way to the center of their bones.

"He's not here," Shizuo states bluntly, feeling Celty's burning stare fixated like a laser on the side of his face. Her expectant eyes pierce him with a force so palpable he ducks away from her for some relief. 

"Maybe he's somewhere nearby, listening. He could be waiting for you to talk to him, Celty," Shinra suggests. He nudges the Dullahan, nodding in the direction of the water. "Come on, I'll translate for you."

"Think he'll show up halfway in?" Shizuo asks rhetorically.

"It's worth a shot," Shinra replies, unbothered. "Celty?"

Celty shakes her head, slipping out of the doctor's grasp. When Shinra takes a step forward to follow her, she reaches out and places a hand against his chest, stopping him in his tracks. Her eyes burn with determination, her lips moving with purpose.

_I need to say this on my own._

Shinra takes a step backward. "Yes, you're right," he acknowledges.

Celty turns at an angle to face the waterfall, just so much that Shizuo can make out the impression of her profile as she crouches down in the snow. Her palms press together, lips gracing the sides of her index fingers, as she assumes a position of prayer. There's a moment of stillness before she begins, as if she's searching for the right way to start, the proper way to introduce herself; but then, all too quickly, she begins speaking her silent thanks, her mouth moving as if compelled by an otherworldly force. It's too fast for Shizuo to make out full sentences, a little too dark for him to distinguish between her consonants, but he catches the most important statement she makes, the full force of her intangible voice striking him at full speed. 

_You saved a monster like me._

Shizuo's irritation at the cold, his anger with Izaya, his general resentment of the entire situation thaws at once, exposed to the heat of his friend's gratitude and sincerity, leaving him with vulnerable, reticent understanding, raw as an exposed nerve.

_She wants closure._

_No-- she needs it._

"Izaya," he whispers, so low under his breath that the frosty winter air seems to carry the syllables away into the evening sky, his gravelly voice a quiet rumble to disguise the plea. "I'm sorry for what I said. Please, hear Celty out."

It's silent.

"Please," he repeats emphatically, squeezing his eyes shut; he lets the desperation come out honestly now, lets his expression melt into hopefulness, his mouth closing around the sound of his begging. _"Please."_

A beat.

"You mortals are so pitiful," a familiar voice rings.

Shizuo's eyes fly open, lashes fluttering, tickling the tops of his cheeks as he blinks through his shock. Izaya sits, shrouded in a throne of mist before Celty, just a few feet away, separated by the sturdy curve of the offering stone. The deity's eyes are locked onto Celty's lips, not sparing even a glance toward Shizuo.

"Izaya," he breathes. 

Shinra throws him a confused glance, which he brushes aside.

"Not now, Shizu-chan," Izaya cuts him off. "I'm trying to listen to your friend."

And to Shizuo's surprise, the deity keeps his word. 

For what must be hours, Izaya sits before Celty, watching her face so closely and with such intensity he must not even be blinking, trying to capture every movement of her mouth, every twist and turn of her lips. It's almost dark by the time Celty's lips begin to slow down, her frame wracked with tremors from the cold night air, made even harsher by the persistent snow that continues to fall. Save for the natural glow of the silver moonlight, it's so dark Shizuo can barely make out the scene before him; but his breath catches in his throat like a strangled cry when the moonbeams race through the branches of the trees at such a perfect angle that they illuminate Izaya's countenance. There's something tender glistening in his crimson eyes, a gentleness softening the usually cruel uptick of his pale lips. 

_Human,_ Shizuo thinks. _He's so, so human._

The sentimental expression etched into the god's features is yet maintained, not a trick of the light as a nagging voice of doubt inside Shizuo tries to assert. He watches with baited breath as Izaya reaches a hand out slowly, tentatively, extending his fingertips toward Celty's face. _He's going to wipe her tears_ , Shizuo thinks with an undertone of inevitability, as the moonlight shines on the wetness of the Dullahan's cheeks. _He's going to reveal himself to her._

His breath catches surreptitiously when Izaya's ring finger grazes a strand of Celty's hair, and he's not even aware he's moved to get a closer look until he's standing at Celty's side, his face falling at the sight of her empty countenance, hollow and blank, her gaze fixed unto the lake, unseeing. 

"He's here," Shizuo croaks hoarsely, grasping her shoulder and shaking her gently. Her body relaxes against him, her form crumpling with exhaustion. A frustrated noise escapes him as he gestures to Izaya fruitlessly. "Celty, he was listening."

She looks at him hopelessly. 

"She doesn't believe me." He turns to Izaya, pleading. "Do something."

But Izaya's face is guarded, the emotion that gleamed from his eyes just moments ago now gone, carried away by the winter winds; and suddenly, Shizuo isn't sure if he just imagined the other's emotions. The god offers a placating smile, a helpless shrug of his shoulders. "Tell your friend she's quite eloquent," he says plainly. His lips quiver into a crooked approximation of a smile. 

Shizuo turns back to Celty with dismay. "Celty, he's here," he repeats, shaking her shoulder a little. "He's right here."

"Shizu-chan," Izaya says, glancing at the Dullahan's pale skin with an expression that screams of pity. "You should get your friend inside before it gets any colder."

Celty trembles against his arm.

"She's won't go until she sees you," Shizuo growls. "You were just about to do it, but you chickened out."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Izaya replies, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Bullshit," he snaps, feeling his voice building momentum, catalyzed by a week's worth of frustration and fatigue, intensified by the feeling of the trembling mess Celty's become in his arms. He's reaching out before he can help himself, making a desperate grab at Izaya's collar, but the deity slips out of his reach, leaning further back into the lake. "What are you so afraid of?" 

"Shizuo," Shinra's voice calls from behind them, a cautious warning.

"I am not afraid," Izaya says, gaze smoldering in righteous indignation. 

"Prove it," breathes Shizuo, ignoring the doctor. Even with Celty in his arms, it's as if only he and Izaya exist in this frigid space, the two of them locked in place by the freezing atmosphere rivaled in intensity only by the burning sparks smoldering between their eyes. "Show yourself."

Shizuo's eyes follow Izaya's white fingertips, the unnatural glow that glides through the air with every tremble of the immortal's body flickering around his form. The deity's hand brushes against Shizuo's arm on its way towards Celty, sending immediate chills down his skin, but he clenches his jaw and ignores the sensation, eyes locked onto Izaya's tense form. Izaya's hand nears Celty, hesitating at the wetness near her eyes and the pallor of her flushed cheeks, and again, his hand retreats, drawn back as if he's been burnt. A scoff laced with derision escapes Shizuo involuntarily, and Izaya's lips pull back, his teeth flashing into a defensive snarl.

"You're a coward," Shizuo whispers. 

Izaya doesn't speak, only rises to his feet with the grace of a natural predator. 

For a second, Shizuo thinks he's gone too far--that the water's going to rise and swallow him up whole, with nothing but those red eyes haunting the last remnants of his mortal memory. But Izaya's hand stretches down, grasping not for Shizuo, but the pile of persimmons on his offering stone. The moonlight chases after the god's face, illuminating his delicate beauty: the curve of his regal cheekbones, the feather-light flutter of his dark lashes, and the slender slope of his thin neck. 

Izaya's fingers curl over the orange fruit.

"Shizuo," Shinra gasps from behind him.

Celty scrambles out of his grasp, her blue eyes bursting with disbelief, lips opening and closing as she struggles to find the right words. Izaya brings the persimmon to his mouth and a startling _crunch_ disturbs the air, louder than anything he's ever heard before, and the realization, so powerful it's physically tangible, hits him head-on as he understands exactly what Celty and Shinra see: their offering disappearing into invisible nothingness, the flesh of the fruit closed off around a phantom's lips. 

Juice drips down Izaya's chin. Shizuo watches the nectar slowly snake its way down the pale of his throat.

"You would've been less trouble dead," Izaya whispers. The half-eaten persimmon dangles from his outstretched fingertips. 

Shizuo wets his lips. 

There's a _plunk_ as the persimmon drops into the water.

"Izaya," he breathes, as if the other's name is a prayer. "Thank you."

The god disappears in a cloud of cool mist, and Shizuo's still frozen, staring at the space Izaya's form once occupied, as if he can still make out the god's ethereal silhouette from the darkness which claims him like an afterthought. Celty is weeping, Shinra's arms are wrapping around them, and there's a tearful warmth that breaks through the biting cold of the winter night.

_He's human,_ Shizuo decides with finality, his eyes still locked onto the center of the lake where the forgotten persimmon floats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sleepy (!!) but this thing practically wrote itself. I don't plan on it being very long-- maybe 5-6 chapters? But we'll see!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a comment if you've got the time. And, happy holidays!


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